BUBSY
by Roadworx
Summary: the worst thing you will ever read
1. you'll cowards don't even smoke crack

BUBSY, Chapter One

Blazetail, lost and confused, quietly made his down the rocky path that guided him into the depths of the twolegplace. He looked up at the sky and saw the moon shining down from the sky; his trek into the lands of the twolegs had begun at sunup. He had walked through rows and rows of nests that the twolegs made their home, and had dodged dozens of the metallic monsters that stalked the Thunderpaths. It seemed like this strange, foreign land was going on forever. At this rate, he would never be able to reach the Shoreclan in only two sunrises. He wasn't even sure that he would ever be able to find the Shoreclan. However, Blazetail had to find their camp - the Woodclan depended upon him to do so. It was the only way the clan could be saved.

Despite the necessity and urgency of his journey across the twolegplace, he needed to rest. Luckily for him, he spotted a seemingly empty twolegnest that bordered the long stretch of stone that led further into the twolegplace. The nest, a dilapidated wooden structure surrounded by dead grass, looked like a fairly safe area to sleep for the night; the condition of it led Blazetail to believe it have not been used.

Making his way over the grass and into a small hole that was present in the rotting wood. The moment he entered, a foul smell entered his nostrils, and almost immediately Blazetail gagged. Trying to ignore the awful stench, he continued to walk into the abandoned nest in an attempt to find a resting spot. After squeezing through the hole, he found himself in an odd, enclosed space. Dozens of strange objects filled the area; some were made of wood, some of metal, and some of a strange, fur-like material. Blazetail decided that this could be the perfect spot to sleep until sunup.

That is, until a loud slam disrupted the silence. He looked behind him, and walking across the nest's ground was a twolegs. Panicking, Blazetail darted back out of the hole and into the night, terrified of his encounter.

Meanwhile, a short, orange cat, outfitted in a white t-shirt and walking on two legs, drunkenly made his way to the toilet. Nearly tripping over his own feet, he managed to stumble into his bathroom, put his face over the toilet, and empty the contents of his stomach. After a few minutes of vomiting up everything he had eaten in the past day, he stood up. He slowly walked out of the bathroom, through the hallway, and into his bedroom, in which he subsequently passed out on his bed.

* * *

Barely conscious after his long, drunken sleep, Bubsy opened his eyes and saw the yellowed, peeling wallpaper on the wall adjacent to his bed.

He then closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep in.

After nearly thirty minutes of doing nothing but lying on the mattress and hoping to fall asleep once again, Bubsy reopened his eyes. He didn't want to have to get up, nor did he want to have to do much else. Sometimes, he wished that he didn't ever have to get up. He wished that he never had to live this life.

Staring at the water-damaged ceiling above himself, the orange feline began to contemplate why he has kept up with his existence.

Why do I keep repeating the same cycle of self-harm?  
Why do I still drink even though it's making everything worse?  
Why can't I just be useful?  
Why am I here?  
Why was I born?  
Do I even have a _purpose_?

Bubsy then grabbed the flask of whiskey standing on the end table next to his bed, downed the whole thing, and said "Fuck it."


	2. eat shit and die

A/N: sorry for the shorter chapter and also fuck you

BUBSY, Chapter Two

"Oh, god dammit," Bubsy mumbled to himself. "Shit."

Bubsy had opened his cupboard, revealing a filthy wooden space covered in a thick layer of dust and spilled foods that smelled of rot. Crumbs and scattered pieces of cereal dotted the bottom, some of which were the home of various technicolor molds. Even the wood itself was beginning to fall apart, with cracks and holes sprawling across the walls of the container.

"Where's the cereal? What the hell am I supposed to eat?" he asked himself. He routinely ate cereal and had a cup of coffee in the morning before he walked down to the bar. He didn't want this day to be any different. "I thought I still had some, what happened to it?"

Slamming the cupboard door closed, Bubsy grabbed his old, torn-up jacket off the back of a plastic dining chair and went straight towards the front door. Taking hold of the doorknob, he pulled the cheap wooden door towards him and let loose a rush of cold air which blew past his face and filled the kitchen behind him. Quickly, he set his foot onto the porch and walked down the patio stairs, nearly slipping on a patch of ice on the way down. Parked on the curb was a dark blue Ford pickup truck that was rusted to the point of no return; he promptly opened the door, got in, and fitted the key into the ignition.

He turned the key, heard the whir of the engine, and then...nothing. He tried a second time with the same result. "Come on," Bubsy growled, slamming his fist onto the dashboard. He turned the key for a third time, and after a second of sputtering, the engine finally sparked to life.

"Fuckin' finally."

Bubsy grabbed hold of the gearstick and pressed his foot down against the gas pedal, putting the truck into motion. He drove down the street, stopping at an intersection, where he started to think of what else he needed at ALDI besides a few boxes of cereal. He noted to himself that he also probably needed some more TV dinners, since he had been practically living off those and fast food for the past few years of his life. Pushing back down on the pedal, the truck began to move once again.

After taking a sip of a can of beer he had left in the truck yesterday, he decided to instead go down to Save-a-Lot. Sure, he thought, it was a bit more expensive and it was farther away, but all the TV dinners that ALDI had weren't all that great. Besides, what could _possibly_ go wrong?

Content with his choice, Bubsy reached down to grab the can of beer to take another sip. Picking it up, he raised it up, and then let the force of gravity slip the can out of his hand. and straight onto his lap, spilling brown liquid all over his lower half. He looked down at the mess he had created, and immediately began to spew vulgarities. "Oh, come the fuck on!" Bubsy yelled in anger. More curses came forth from his mouth until a loud thud was heard, followed by the screeching of tires and the word "Shit."


End file.
